


In the End

by Siver



Category: The Last Story
Genre: F/M, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Coming to terms and moving forward shortly after the war's end.





	In the End

“What’s this? A half empty pint?” Lowell asked as he entered Ariela’s tavern and took in the sight of Syrenne sitting empty handed. He took a seat across from her and eyed the beer sitting on the table.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“What, can’t a girl drink in peace?” Syrenne retorted.

Lowell made a long slow show of looking around the tavern. It was a quiet hour with few people. The usual punters would come soon, he knew, but for now there was plenty of room for a roaring drunk and yet here she was being quiet and thoughtful. He’d certainly seen many strange things as a mercenary, not least the recent events of the war and its end, but this one ranked up there among the strangest.

He caught Ariela’s eye and mouthed ‘How many?’ She raised one finger. He blinked in surprise before turning back to Syrenne with a winning smile.

“Of course! But I don’t see any here.”

“Oh shut up, you.” The words were there, but the rancour lacked.

“I didn’t know you were capable of half-pints. What’s eating you?”

“Nothing!”

Syrenne knocked back the rest of her beer and stood abruptly, her hands hitting the table.

“Right. I’m bored. Arena time.”

Bored over booze? Curiouser and curiouser. Lowell leaned back in his chair.

“Have fun. Ariela, a-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Syrenne cut in.

And Lowell almost fell out of his chair as Syrenne grabbed his arm and hauled him off.

“You’re coming too,” she ordered.

 

Last match and it was nearly over if their opponent would come out of hiding. Lowell scanned the area, a spell ready at hand.

There, creeping around the wall while…

“Syrenne behind you!”

Lowell leapt forward as the knight’s sword came down. Syrenne whipped around. He winced as the sword met his in a clash of metal that sent a shock through his arm. It was nothing compared to Syrenne’s screamed ‘No!’ ringing through his ears. Never mind a punch the woman could pack a yell.

The knight yelped as the flat of Syrenne’s blade came down on his wrist causing him to drop his sword. A shove and a hard kick slammed him into the wall where he slumped. Syrenne bore down on him.

“What a blow!” the announcer’s voice echoed around the arena. “He’ll be feeling that one for a week!”

“Syrenne…” Lowell warned.

The knight looked stunned, but made a feeble effort at trying to burrow into the wall to get away from Syrenne.

“And that’s another stunning victory for the team. What a treat!” Called the other announcer.

“Syrenne,” Lowell said again. “He’s down. Leave the poor fellow alone.”

Syrenne whirled around, shoulders heaving and eyes flashing.

“Right! Who else wants some?”

“Easy now,” said Lowell as he cautiously approached her. “We’ve won. Time to collect our prize and maybe get you some air, eh?”

She flashed him a glare before she nodded and lowered her swords.

“Come on then,” she said shortly and marched off toward the exit.

 

Lamps lit the streets as evening fell. Merchants called out in a last push for the day’s profits while people started wending their way home or toward the evening’s attractions. Hammers and the sound of sawing still sounded over the streets as further repairs were continued.

And Syrenne stalked over the cobblestone as if it caused great personal offence.

They started to cross the bridge over the river in silence when Lowell stopped. The stars were starting to come out, faint pin pricks in the sky.

“Hold up,” he said. “Romantic night like this – let’s enjoy it.”

Syrenne snorted, but she stopped and leaned against the rail. Still quiet, Lowell noted, but in a clear huff. She’d been normal during the match, eager and cheerful as always until…

“A good match,” Lowell said idly. “That last knight didn’t know what hit him. Little extreme, don’t you think?”

Syrenne’s hands clenched over the rail before she abruptly turned to face him. She stared up at him, her jaw set and eyes fierce, searching his face. Her hand ghosted across his cheek before settling in a firm grip over his shoulder. Then she nodded as if satisfied and released him.

She grinned and all anger and tension vanished as if it had never been there.

“You know what this night needs? Scouting followed by a good beer. Let’s go.”

Lowell blinked and tried to catch up to the abrupt shift in mood.

“Scouting? What for?”

“A good bar location you numpty. Gotta have a good spot for the best bar in Lazulis.” She started walking away and waved a hand through the air. “Be a pretty piss-poor husband to make the wife do all the work.”

Lowell gaped after her. Of course he’d said… and then she’d started to say… but it had been easy to pass off. It could be a joke. It could be the heat of the moment. Simple to wave away if necessary. He swallowed the unthinkable image of her taking the sword. Tears on his chest…

A new life indeed.

A slow grin spread across his face. Lowell hurried to catch up, quickly falling in stride with Syrenne. They sought a better life. Nothing was better than this.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanders in seven years late to toss a small fic out. As per usual.


End file.
